Today, we’re diving into the story of a Christian who not only felt utterly alone but whose world went silent. We’re talking about Elijah, a man who experienced one of the most incredible spiritual highs the world has ever seen. Imagine witnessing fire come down from heaven with such intensity that it incinerated rocks. Elijah was on top of the world in 1 Kings 18, riding the wave of the miraculous victory at Mt. Carmel. His story can’t help but hit us in real time. Elijah lived in a time when his country was fractured, much like ours. It was a post-Christian nation in many ways—a nation that once knew the Lord intimately but had become a pluralistic society, filled with various religions and philosophies. On Mount Carmel, Elijah believed reformation was finally happening. All those prophets of Baal and Asherah had been destroyed. He was riding high, filled with the power of God, the Holy Spirit, and he ran to Jezreel, the capital city of Israel. He thought, surely now, the king and queen would see the light. Surely now, the people of Israel would turn back to the Lord. But instead of the great reformation Elijah expected, everything simmered down quietly and quickly. The spectacular event on Mount Carmel had no lasting effect. Instead of being embraced, Elijah received a death threat from Queen Jezebel. So, he ran.
But Elijah didn’t just run away aimlessly. He had a destination in mind—Mount Horeb, you might know it as Mount Sinai. He was searching for God’s presence, seeking a sign to reassure him that the Lord was still with him. But before he gets there, he stops at a town called Beersheba, sends his assistant away because he is done with ministry, and he sits under a tree and just listen to the low point he’s at: “He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” How did this happen? How could this hero of faith feel this way? I think you know the place where Elijah was. Maybe you’re there now. You’ve had enough and you’re longing for a sign that the Lord is near you. It’s a struggle common to all Christians. We often ask God for signs to make the right decisions, to feel his presence. That’s where Elijah was. But the reason Elijah felt so alone wasn’t that the Lord wasn’t there; it was because the Lord had a different plan than his. Here’s what I mean.
Think about those times in your life when you’ve felt distant from God. Maybe that’s this very second. You might be feeling an overwhelming sense of darkness, burnout, or emotional isolation, thinking that God is not there. I’ve been there too. It’s what our brokenness and sin does. Satan loves to stoke the flames of the sinful nature within us to think that no one gets our pain, and God won’t deliver like we think he should. I’ve had moments when I pleaded with Jesus, saying, “If I could just see you, if you could just do this one thing for me, I would never doubt you again.” I remember as a kid, I wanted a PlayStation 2. I prayed, “God, if you’re really here and you love me, let me have a PlayStation 2.” It didn’t happen. Sometimes our requests for signs are like that—simple and childlike. But sometimes they are much deeper. I recall a man who visited our church a couple of years ago and shared his heart-wrenching story inside Starbucks. He asked, “If God loves me and is there for me, why did he allow my wife to die in a car crash at 25? Why didn’t he save her?” He walked away before I could respond. It’s a question that continues to be echoed. I recently had a conversation with an amazing Christian woman who had lost her husband. She was so desperate to have a connection with him and wished God would give that to her. Have you ever felt something similar? If so, you might find yourself sitting by the tree next to Elijah, wanting God to show himself to you in the way you think is best.
Kinda arrogant, right? I’d almost expect God to knock Elijah upside the head, but he doesn’t do that, does he? The angel of the LORD, Jesus before his incarnation, comes to Elijah. He didn’t rebuke Elijah. Instead, he cooked for him, showing divine hospitality. God loves sharing meals with us. Do you see the connection to the Lord’s Supper? Just as Jesus loved to share meals, his presence is still given to us through the bread and wine in communion, the most tangible expression of his presence. Martin Luther once wrote, “For in the Sacrament, the Lord Christ himself is present, and he is himself the preparer of the sacrament.” Often, we demand to see God’s presence when we feel he’s not listening to us, expecting him to follow our plans. Yet, he continues to serve us, to love us, and to give us his presence in the most personal way possible.
Despite this amazing kindness from the LORD, Elijah’s attitude didn’t change immediately. He finally goes to Mount Sinai, burrows himself in a cave, and buries his face in his hands. The darkness of hopelessness seems to have him surrounded. Then God asks him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He responds with, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” Elijah’s response was essentially, “I’ve done my part, Lord. Where are you?” God didn’t rebuke Elijah harshly. Instead, he invites Elijah to stand on the mountain. There, Elijah experiences a powerful wind, an earthquake, and a fire, but God was not in any of these. Then comes a gentle whisper. Commentator Ian Provain describes it like this: “From the beginning, it had involved the gentle but devastating whisper, the quiet ways of God’s normal providence. Elijah must be content.” God finds Elijah in the still, small voice of his Word.
This still, small voice is where God finds us too—in the seemingly ordinary, quiet Scriptures. So commonplace but in reality majestic in grace. The Word has more power than we could begin to harness. To illustrate that, Jesus once told a parable about a rich man and a poor man named Lazarus. The rich man, in torment in hell, begged Abraham to send Lazarus back from the dead to warn his family. Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.” Even a miraculous return from the dead wouldn’t change hearts that ignored God’s Word. Only the Word can truly cause heart change. We need to remember this because we often look for God’s presence in our emotions or circumstances. We think, “If I just feel God’s presence, then I know he’s here.” But God doesn’t promise to be found in our emotions. His presence isn’t dependent on our feelings or circumstances. If it were, we’d never be sure of his presence.
God promises to be found in his Word. The still, small voice of his Word speaks of Jesus, the Word made flesh, who took the fire of hell for us, endured the earthquake of his crucifixion, and who didn’t just whisper but shouted, “It is finished.” Satan tries to convince us that the Bible is just a book, but it’s in reality the living Word of God. It’s where God speaks to us. When you’re in the cave of despair, hear the voice of Jesus in the Scripture. He says, “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” He promises, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” God’s Word is powerful and transformative. It’s more powerful than any earthquake or fire.
Elijah’s story reminds us that God’s presence isn’t in the spectacular. It’s in the gentle whisper of Word and Sacrament. There’s great comfort in knowing that we don’t need to look for God in extraordinary signs. He’s already with us in his Word. It’s the beauty of this church we call home. Because in reality when choosing a church, the first question we should ask isn’t about the music, the building, the programs, or even the friendliness. It’s, “Do they preach and teach God’s Word faithfully?” It’s through his Word that we encounter Christ crucified and risen for the forgiveness of our sins, and how sweet that message is.
Paul Gerhardt, the great Lutheran hymn writer penned so beautifully what the certainty of Word is all about: “Feelings come and feelings go, and feelings are deceiving; My warrant is the Word of God-Naught else is worth believing. Though all my heart should feel condemned, for want of some sweet token, there is One greater than my heart, whose Word cannot be broken. I'll trust in God's unchanging Word, till soul and body sever, for, though all things shall pass away, his Word shall last forever.”
It’s a truth I strive to cling to. In my own life, there have been times of intense shame and feelings of worthlessness. I’ll confess it happens more frequently than I’d like to admit. During those times I remember a passage, a dear Christian man now in heaven once shared with me, 1 John 3:19-20: “This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.” In our cave moments, we can run to the gentle but powerful whisper of his Word, reminding us that God’s Word is greater than our emotions and circumstances. We need not search for Him in our feelings or in signs. Places he’s never promised he’d be found. He tells us where we can always find him. In his Word, in baptism, in communion offering his love and forgiveness. And what does that Word tell us about his presence?
King David puts it this way “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.” God is omnipresent—He is everywhere at all times. We cannot escape his presence, even in our darkest moments. He’ll never leave us lonely. Dear family in Christ, the next time you feel like God’s voice is silent, remember that God’s presence is with you through his Word. He’s with you, ready to speak into your silent suffering. You’re not alone. Jesus, who rose from the cave of the tomb, is with you, offering light, joy, and connection. His still, small voice changes your core, it changes churches, cultures, and communities. So, let’s listen to that gentle whisper. Let it echo in our minds. Read his Word. If you need a Bible reading plan or have questions, I’m here to help. In the stillness, in the quiet of his Word, Jesus finds you in that moment of joy or pain and he whispers his promise again to never leave you. It’s why we grip his Word with all we have until that day when faith turns to sight, God’s presence will be all we see, and the gentle whisper becomes the sound of Jesus singing a song of joy. Amen.
